The Time-Out Room

My daughter got sent to the time out room at school today.  She got sent there because she has diabetes.

It sounds like the start to a diabetes parent horror story.  It's really not- just a bizarre one.

The 8th grade took a standardized science test today.  It's specific to our state and unrelated to the other standardized tests they took a few weeks ago.

When she took her first standardized tests (2nd grade?), she took them in a room with other kids who had school 504 medical, or individual educational accommodation plans.  This went on through 4th grade, and then in 5th and 6th, she and one other girl with a medical plan were further separated from the rest. Testing in another room allowed her to stop the test and leave the room to treat low or high blood sugars or to use the restroom.  We used this accommodation once for an episode of Nurse's Office Calisthenics.

Come 7th grade, we were told that the rules for the newly introduced test were different and that if she left the room...any room for any reason...she'd have to stop testing and make up the test another day.  Kids with both medical and educational challenges were testing in another room and being allotted extra time, but no accommodation could be made for having to actually leave the room.  So at that point, we chose to have her take the test with the 'general population.' 

Today's test, unbeknownst to us, fell under the older test's rules.  So as she sat in homeroom today, names were read off, followed by the rooms the kids were to go to.  Kids were generally being put in alphabetical order for testing.  Then came her name, followed by, 'You're going to the time-out room.'

Hilarity apparently ensued amongst her friends. The teacher said something along the lines of, 'There's a sentence I never thought I'd have to say!" 

She took the science test, by herself, in the time-out room with a Spanish teacher she didn't know very well.  She was intrigued to experience the room, had plenty of time and peace to read her book as she finished each section, and maintained a good sense of humor about it.  Would a phone call home or a check-in with the student earlier this week have been nice?  Absolutely- it was a strange surprise.  But if nothing else, diabetes surely teaches us to roll with the punches and survive by finding the humor in situations.  This one was really pretty funny. 

Teenage Thoughts Interrupted

This is only a sample of what I imagine is circling through my daughter's mind, on repeat, every day:

when am I eating next
4x+y=47...where do I start
what's my blood sugar
when is that English essay due
we're running in gym today so I might be low
I wonder if Molly can come over after school
I'm sitting for an hour and a half in the assembly- I'll probably be high at lunch
I love the new Nick Jonas song
the school schedule changed for the day so lunch is really early- that'll mess up my blood sugar
should I get a new mirror in my room
should I have dinner before or after tennis so I don't go low
my piano recital is on Saturday
is it site change day
which dress should I wear for 8th grade graduation
why am I high
I need to get something for grandpa's birthday
should I ask all my friends to stop and wait for me while I check my blood sugar
why are my friends arguing over where to go for lunch on Friday
how many carbs are in this dish of Italian ice
are the Red Sox on tv tonight
should I correct again or will I crash because I might only be high from being nervous about the quiz
when are auditions for the summer musical
did I silence the dexcom or is it going to alarm during the concert
maybe I'll call my cousins tonight
why are there no clean measuring cups so I can measure my rice for dinner
that panda video is adorable
should I go to the nurse for this 69 blood sugar or just eat a couple of glucose tabs at my desk
should I ask for a new phone case
I need more dexcom tape
maybe we could shop for shoes for the 8th grade dance this afternoon
I have to bring more juice boxes into school tomorrow for the nurse's office
does the library have the book I'm waiting for yet
where did I leave the meter
is it my turn in words with friends with grandma
I have to remind mom that we need to reorder the pump supplies
should I post a selfie on Instagram today or is it too soon since the last one
maybe I'll just have cucumbers and hummus for snack so I don't have to count carbs
I'm so excited about this ancient Egypt history project
I can hear the alarm but where did I leave the dexcom
this box of tic tacs is almost gone

Tetherball

A couple of weeks ago, my daughter found herself explaining the need to keep her pump attached somewhere under her costume for the school musical.  It brought to mind this post from a few years ago:

My daughter had a softball “workout” a couple of weeks ago.  All of the girls playing this spring were summoned to demonstrate their skills at batting, catching pop-ups, and fielding  grounders.  Groups of 5 at a time entered the gym to be evaluated by at least that many adults.  Based on their skills, the girls were sorted into evenly-matched  teams. 

Fielding grounders is my daughter’s best skill.  She can hit when she gets in a groove, but given the amount of snow on the ground, she hasn’t swung a bat since October sometime.  And she’ll readily admit that she can’t catch a pop-up beach ball, let alone softball.  So she was excited to demonstrate her infield skills. 

I was not allowed in the room, but as she tells the story, here’s what happened:

Someone bounced a grounder to her.  She was ready, leaned down, and got it.  Then her pump fell out of her pocket.  She threw to first, grabbed the pump and stuffed it deeper in the pocket of her sweats.  From behind her, comes the coach’s voice.  “Can I hold that for you?” 

Diabetes has been part of my daughter’s life since she was 13 months old.  And it’s always been interesting to watch how she responds to people responding to it.  She tends to be very matter-of-fact about the whole thing, and is developing an increasing vocabulary to answer questions and to respond to potentially awkward situations.

“Um…well…actually, it’s attached to me.  So I don’t think that would work too well, but thank you.”

I couldn’t have said it better.  

Of course, on the way home, we became hysterical envisioning her fielding grounders while the coach tried to hold the pump. 

Tetherball, anyone?

A Minor Miracle

AFTER Calibration!!!

Maybe once a month we get a perfect match between the glucometer reading and the dexcom.  It's always very exciting and everyone in the house is summoned to see it with their own eyes.

On occasion these matchy moments occur at the same time the dexcom needs to be calibrated.  In the past, every single time we've entered a meter number that matches the dexcom's number we've been left shaking our heads.  Without fail, Dexi will decide my daughter's blood sugar is not exactly the matchy number at all, but one just one or seventeen points in one direction or the other.  

For this and other reasons, Dexi's strong-mindedness has become a running joke in our family.  

This morning, I was summoned to view the breakfast numbers- which were a little higher than I'd like but did indeed match.  I then stayed to watch as the dexcom calibration took place, waiting to see what whimsical number Dexi would decide was the real one.  

"Mom...look...she actually agreed!"

"Wow...maybe she's mellowing out."

Probably she's just thinking up some other way to torture us later on.

A Near Miss With Auto-Correct

*She'd been low ALL DAY, hence the advice not to bolus when she was 80.  As per usual: not medical advice.  It worked, though.

Um...Yuck?

"The granola is 10, the blueberries are about 5.  That was the new brand of soy yogurt.  How many carbs were in the container?"

As I turned around from giving the smoothie one last whirl, I found my daughter elbow deep in the kitchen trash.  Holding the yogurt cup delicately with 2 fingers, she said, "27" before dropping it back in and turning to wash her hands.

It wasn't the first time this scene has played out here.  Generally, though, I'm the dedicated trash picker. What particularly struck me about yesterday's episode was my child's nonchalance about diving in herself.

Add it to the long list of peculiarly unpleasant things we do for diabetes' sake.

We pick the trash.

Dexi's Wordless Wednesday

Helpful Hint:

The Dexcom ceases to be useful if you pack it in your mother's purse instead of your own before leaving for the day.

The Junior Mints

"So," she admitted, "we stopped at the store on the way home.  I had 50 cents, and I was tired of glucose tabs."

She'd been hovering between definitively low and low-ish all day.  A couple of juice boxes, a half-bolused lunch and half a roll of glucose tabs later she texted me before walking home.  "78!"

Knowing she had no snack with her, I suggested a couple more glucose tabs to keep her upright until she got home.  She had other ideas.

"They had those little boxes of Junior Mints for 25 cents.  There were 5 in a box.  It seemed perfect.  I hope you're not mad."

"It seems to have turned out well...your blood sugar is perfect now.  Did you enjoy them?"

"Yeah. But then I was looking at something and I spilled 3 of them.  I still had 25 cents so I went back in the store and got another box.  I ended up eating 7 of them altogether."






Seinfeld got it just right.  Junior mints are easy to spill, very refreshing, and might even contain curative properties.

Dexi Sings Queen

Saturday night went a little like Queen's song, 'Bohemian Rhapsody.'

My daughter's Dexcom, 'Dexi,' buzzed around 1 a.m.

Caught in a landslide
No escape from reality
Open your eyes
Look up {to the skies} and see

I squinted at Dexi's message:

"LOW"  How low?  I clicked to see the estimate.  "67."

I shuffled off to my daugher's room.

Flashlight, meter, test strip, lancet.  "207."  Huh?

Is this the real life?
Is this just fantasy?

Back I went to grab Dexi from my bedside table so I could set her straight.  I informed her of the meter reading, and she asked for another.  Once I'd put that in, the graph showed a reasonable '193.'

As I started do doze off again, the buzzing resumed.  "HIGH"  "275."  Unconvinced, I checked anyway.  I informed Dexi both through her computer buttons and verbally with a few choice words, that "170" was the number she should be aware of.  An apology would have been nice.  Something like

Mama, ooo
Didn't mean to make you cry.

No apology was forthcoming, but she did get herself straightened out by morning, having overcome her night of ambivalence.

A little high, little low
Anyway the wind blows, doesn't really matter to me...to me.

Orthodontist As A Second Language

I don't speak 'orthodontist' very well.

My daughter and I have been visiting one for a few years now.  A year and a half ago the first orthodontic appliance was installed: a 'space maintainer' in her lower palette.  Three weeks ago, she had braces put on her upper teeth, complete with head gear.

We've had many consultations with the orthodontist.  X-rays and brochures have been viewed together and discussed. Options have been explained.  I'm embarrassed to admit that I understood about half of it.  If I'm lucky.

In contrast, when we go to the endocrinologist, I follow along completely.  I understand all the words.  I ask questions if something's unclear and keep asking until I understand the answers.

Why the disparity?  Our orthodontist is not the problem.  She's a smart and articulate professional. She takes her time explaining things and is always willing to take more.

I think it's me.  To be exact (this may sound bad), it's the degree to which I care about what she's saying.

When we leave the endocrinologist's office, I become the resident expert on diabetes for the next 3-4 months.  I need to understand every detail about the diabetes treatment plan in order to make it happen 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.  I need to be able to explain it to my husband, the school nurse and sometimes even the pediatrician. During every office visit, I'm absorbing information about how to keep my child alive and healthy every day, and for as long as possible.  It's information which is crucial for me, and increasingly so for my daughter, to fully understand.

In our initial meetings with the orthodontist, we discussed a 2-3 year plan to straighten teeth.  I understood in a general way that the space maintainer would hold her bottom teeth where they were. The braces would push (pull?) teeth to the back of her mouth to make room for a couple yet to come in near the front. Details of exactly how it all works remain blurry to this day.  But in this case any missing information will not be life-threatening.  I'm able to leave those details for the orthodontist to worry about every 8 weeks when we visit. I need to know a limited amount of information, like not to feed her hard, chewy foods and how to help her get the head gear on.  I need to nag her to wear it and to keep her teeth really clean. Beyond that, my basic understanding of the process was enough for me to feel comfortable signing off on it.

Of necessity, endocrinology needs to remain my primary language and focus.  I'll just have to muddle through in orthodontist.  It's kind of a relief not to have to master another whole language.

Dexi

Dexi became a part of our family a little over a month ago.

She's our new dexcom continuous glucose monitoring system's receiver.

Upon her arrival, my daughter named her.  And over the past month the creative team here has personified her.

New questions and phrases have become part of our household lexicon:

Where's Dexi?

What does Dexi say?

Dexi's confused. Dexi's number and blood sugar number are very different.

Dexi's lost. The transmission signal has been lost between sensor and receiver.

Dexi is eating pie. The warm-up time for a newly inserted sensor shows a pie graph.

Dexi is thirsty.  When she needs to be calibrated a blood drop image shows on the screen.

Dexi is really thirsty.  Sometimes she needs two calibration numbers and shows two drops.

Dexi's yelling at you.  High or low alarm.

Keep an eye on Dexi while you're sledding.  Similarly, eating party food, staying up late.

Is Dexi in your purse? Similarly, on your pants, in the kitchen or did we leave Dexi in the car?

Dexi slept through the night.  I love it when she does this!

Friends and family are initially confused.  Some think we've gotten a cat, or brought another child to the party.  While some of them probably go on to conclude we've lost our marbles, most are amused.

What matters most is that it amuses us, and makes it much more fun to talk about and use this new medical device.